I cannot quite believe that this is the 50th edition of my newsletter. Thank you for your support and especially the many thoughtful comments along the way. It has been great fun producing a fortnightly post on exploration, photography and creativity. Please subscribe if you haven’t already - I have a lot more stories in the works.
The forecast for the long weekend was for a lot of snow, destructive winds and low visibility. I had planned to head up to the Bogong High Plains and probably camp out of my car.
I was tempted to go – seasonal road closures were not yet in place, so there would be more access. And if you don’t go, you won’t know.
On the other hand, two days away from the family; in the cold; dubious light. And the weather really did look bad. So on Friday night I called it – no go. However, the itch to explore still needed scratching, so I made alternative plans.
On a previous walk along an access track in the Yarra Ranges National Park, I had crossed a decent sized creek that dropped down into an incredibly steep valley below the road – so steep that a safe way down through the thick vegetation was not obvious. Maybe I could explore here?
Footnote – the 6pm Sunday news was full of stories of four-wheel-drivers and hikers trapped on remote tracks by heavy snowfall (all were well prepared and soon rescued). I was pleased with my good call to change plans.
An early start and the weather was all it promised to be – low cloud, rain, wind. Well rugged up, I headed off down the access track. Walking was easy, although the further I went, the less used the track (see below) and the more wet vegetation I had to push through. I was going to be wet all day.
Despite the rain, I had my camera (Sony a7 iv) with the 24-105mm f4 around my neck. Although it means the camera gets very wet, it is easily accessible, which means I use it, and with a lens hood to keep droplets off the lens I don’t even try to dry the camera (lens cloth management is a thing I spend quite a bit of time thinking about). I have never had any problems (except the pesky ‘multi interface shoe’ which doesn’t recognise water as an accessory – why can’t this be turned off Sony?).
I took a couple of images as I went, which I have converted to black and white, but before long I got to the point I had planned to drop off the track and head down to a smaller creek and then follow it down to the river. At this point, I put the camera in the backpack – the vegetation was so thick and the valley so steep that all four limbs would be required.
The push through the understory of the forest was a slog and didn’t quite go to plan. I felt that the smaller creek would take me too far downstream (it is amazing how much steeper and further everything is in reality, compared to a map in the comfort of home). So I kept above the creek and its more open temperate rainforest for too long as I skirted around the spur to meet the target river above the creek junction. This is a long way of saying I should have trusted my map reading and, in this case, stuck to the plan.
While all this sounds like tough, frustrating walking, I should also say I am having the best time. My senses are alive as I keep track of the terrain; from the land’s contours to each foot placement unseen but carefully tested before moving my weight on it. I am miles from the nearest person; the only sound that of raindrops hitting leaves, bird song, distant water and my own breathing. The scent of the forest; the eucalyptus and peppermint oils released as I push through the vegetation so strong they sting my eyes.
I stop for a moment to have a drink. I check my body and my equipment – the strap on my gaiter has ripped off but otherwise all good. I sit enjoying the silence. I check my GPS – all good. A Brown Treecreeper comes down to investigate, chasing a feed where I have disturbed the leaf litter, opportunity overcoming caution as it comes within a couple of feet.
Before long I reach the bottom of the valley and the vegetation opens up. Here, in the rainforest, the cool dampness is palpable. The main obstacles are fallen trees, sometime necessitating large detours around the massive tree trunks.
I get my camera and tripod out and carefully change to the 16-35mm f4 lens. Travel up the river is slow as I stop regularly to look for compositions, sometimes backtracking to check out a prospective scene.
There is plenty of water in the creek and a nice even light, but I struggle to find compositions. I spend too long taking multiple variations of a scene that I don’t think will work. Being here is enough; any images a bonus, I tell myself. But I also know that I would be disappointed not to come back with something after all this effort.
I am in no rush, so I stop to have a muesli bar and a drink. An opportunity to relax and reset. The images will come, or they won’t. I continue upstream.
The valley begins to close in and the creek gets more chaotic. I check my GPS – only a few hundred metres until I will be close to the access track. To my surprise, I have already covered 14 km (in the end I will walk over 20 km, 12 of those off-track).
The complexity does not make the compositions come any easier. I find something where the river momentarily flattens and the valley sides allow more light in.
But the river tightens further. Unclimbable slopes on one side then the other demand multiple crossings. Finally, I decide to veer away from the river and head up to the access track. A small gully and then, as the scrub thickens, a rocky spur provides a route to the road. It is a steep climb and there is no way I would have seen this from above – I mark it on my map.
I put my camera away and relish being back on a track. I am able to stretch my legs and keep up a nice pace. I climb out of the protection of the deep valley and back up into the cloud and wind, enjoying the reward of covering kilometres and an elevated heart rate.
Before long a quick change and I’m in the comfort and warmth of the car as I head down the mountain and back to the city, ready for the week ahead.
I knew it was the Yarra Valley or Ranges at first view. Nice work.
Magical!